The 'Family Christmas'
by Starkalfheim
Summary: "No matter how much of a genius I might be, even I couldn't have predicted the effect alcohol would have on the Norse God of Fire. Not that I'm complaining..." (Frostiron Christmas One-Shot)


**Here's a bit of drunken Loki to get you all in the mood for the big day :D**

**I sincerely hope you all have the best Christmas possible! Hugs for you all!**

* * *

**The 'Family Christmas'**

No matter how much of a genius I might be, even I couldn't have predicted the effect alcohol would have on the Norse God of Fire. Not that I'm complaining...

It was Christmas Eve, and we were having what Steve called a 'family Christmas'. I simple terms, that meant I had to play host at the Tower while the team ran riot and got well and truly hammered. Trust me, after the first few rounds I didn't give a damn what they did, but I have a feeling Clint will regret agreeing to a drinking contest with Thor. You only have to look at Blondie to know he'll drink you under the table, but Clint has never been one to say no to a challenge, even one he knows he can't win.

Tasha practically pissed herself when he fell of his barstool, but Clint just gave a less-than-sober smile and made a feeble attempt at reaching up for a high-five before giving _the _campest giggle I've ever heard and promptly passing out. Thor roared with laughter and thumped his fist on the bar. "Who's next!? WHO'S NEXT!?"

He looked at each of us in turn before his eyes flicked to the other side of the lounge. A grin formed as his sight settled on the black-haired figure slumped into a low chrome chair by the fire.

"Loki!"

The Asgardian glanced up in a languid fashion and raised an eyebrow.

Thor gestured crudely to the sea of glasses and bottles spread across the bar. "We never did find time to settle _that _score," he called, his grin spreading wickedly as Loki stood up and stalked across the room.

"I'll think you'll find it was settled when we drank in Sif's hall," Loki called back. "_I _won. However…"

He shot me a wink as he passed; coupled with the alcohol, I don't think I could turn any more red in the face. Tasha suppressed a giggle as she sat cross-legged next to Clint where he lay on the floor. Loki smiled as he strode up to Thor and grasped the nearest glass.

"…I would be willing to accept your challenge once more. That is, if you are willing to accept your impending defeat?"

Thor looked sideways at Loki as he climbed up onto the stool beside him, before turning to me and tapping his glass.

"Another."

~oOo~

If there was ever any doubting Thor's claim to the name 'God of Thunder', his snoring would drown out anyone who would want to object. He'd barely managed to stagger over to the sofas before he dived, face first, into the cushions. He was sprawled there for the rest of the evening; nobody dared to move him.

At some point during this display of drunkenness, Bruce had started prodding the TV remote in a_ highly_ scientific manner. Thanks to him, we found _Titanic _being played on the screen mounted above the fire.

And Loki was enthralled.

He still sat at the bar, swaying slightly as he swivelled his stool from side to side with his eyes wide and fixed on the screen, his mouth slightly parted and a half-filled glass of something-or-other still clutched in his hand. He raised his feet every now and again to avoid Clint, sprawled contentedly on the floor, smiling slightly in his sleep. I didn't see Natasha leave, but we found her in the morning passed-out under the Christmas tree.

I'd never seen Steve so emotional. He sat hugging his knees in front of the screen, wailing incoherent babble at Thor's unconscious figure behind him. Bruce was huddled nearby, dissecting the remote with a teaspoon and a screwdriver.

Even by my standards, I was a little worse for wear by that point. I wandered, or rather staggered, over to Loki, trying to look as nonchalant as possible but failing miserably as my eyes kept being drawn to the corner of his parted lips. Of course, that meant I didn't think to avoid Clint. Inevitably (and with a type of swag that simply can't be faked, might I add) I tripped and landed gracelessly against Loki, sprawled and with my face dangerously close to his crotch. He looked down at me and smiled a lopsided smile.

"I think I'm drunk…" he slurred, waving his glass slightly and spilling sloshes of liquor onto Clint below.

"The wisdom of the gods!" I laughed, not bothering to move from where I was sprawled.

We both laughed then, as though I'd just said the wittiest line in existence. Or, at least, we _did_, until Steve's head appeared over the back of the sofa, red faced and teary-eyed; "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Feel the emotion you soulless aRSES!" We practically choked as he slid back down with an 'I'm watching you' glare. I swear he'd only had one glass.

~oOo~

I'm not sure when the film ended. I only know it did at some point because the credits were accompanied by a novel-length lecture from Steve as to why it was the greatest film he'd ever seen in his life, and how anyone who didn't think the same should go fondue themselves. Loki actually sat and listened for the first few minutes – I thought he'd stick around for the whole thing but when Steve started wailing about _sentiment _Loki rolled his eyes and stalked off, dragging me with him.

He led me towards the glass doors that opened out onto the veranda, but he evidently thought they were automatic because the lounge rang with a satisfying _wumph _as he strode straight into them.

"ICEBERG DEAD AHEAD!" Bruce hollered from the fireside.

Loki turned around, looking at me like a wounded puppy until I stepped forwards and touched the panel that released the door. His eyes followed my every movement, and when the door slid aside he looked me dead in the eye before throwing his entire weight onto me in what I can only presume was some kind of clumsy 'thank you'. "They said you were shmart," he said, grinning up at me.

"Howdrunk _are_ you?"

"Severely, my dear Starkey, and yet still quite capable of killing you all!"

"Party animal."

His grin widened as he pulled me outside, giving the door a deathly glare and whispering "_peasant_" under his breath. The snow was falling heavily by now, the buildings ahead and below glimpsed only momentarily through the great curtain of white that had already laid down a satisfyingly crunchy blanket underfoot. We staggered to the edge, where Loki whipped round to face me and presented a small, and slightly battered-looking, sprig of mistletoe.

"Where the _hell _have you been hiding that?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't you like to know…"

"As a matter of fact yes I wou-" He stopped me, not with a kiss as I had expected (or perhaps hoped), but by shoving the mistletoe into my open mouth and stepping back to admire his work.

"Don't you look pretty!" He cooed.

I gave him a sideways glare, removing the plant life uncertainly and looking it over. "I swear if that's been up your ass, that's gross."

"You love it really," he said, stepping forward. "You know, I killed someone with mistletoe once." He added nonchalantly.

"Oh, you're so romantic!" I mock-swooned and fell back into his arms, looking up at him with a wonky smile and paying far too much attention to the way his hair fell about his face. The snow drifted down around us as we hung there for a moment, the noises of the city muffled and Steve's wailing thankfully out of range.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Loki, _my Loki_, leant down and pressed his lips to mine. I swear, it only lasted a moment, but it might have been one of the most perfect moments of my life.

_Might_ have been, had it not been for Thor, now awake but swaying like a seasick mongrel, puffing his cheeks up against the glass on the other side of the door.

~oOo~


End file.
